


Ghostboy

by gallifreyanlibertea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ghostbusters AU, M/M, Request Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Alfred Jones is infatuated with his next-door neighbour, Arthur Kirkland. Luckily, he has a handy way of playing hero that may or may not involve purposefully haunting Arthur's house.





	Ghostboy

**Author's Note:**

> A request was dropped into my inbox consisting of the words "ghostbusters and usuk", so I decided to revisit the story I'd already been writing about these two dorks in a ghostbuster AU.

Alfred had been eyeing the house next door for what seemed like a few weeks now, yes, looking for the perfect moment to investigate. The perfect moment to sneak in, though, hardly existed as made evident by  _just how long he’d been waiting,_  and Alfred knew this moment was all he would need to rid his community of whatever pesky entity had been living in that goddamn house.

It was not quite dangerous, but the pots and pans that clanged against the walls, the rattling, the movement of large furniture- they were obvious signs of a poltergeist effect- and judging by its sudden onset, Alfred was rather sure that it was a recent death. It was just another ghost causing trouble, clinging to life despite, well, being dead.

And it was just another run of the mill non-violent ghost, as he would find out a little while later. A long while later, actually, because things had gotten in Alfred’s way.

It was the fact that the house was for sale, and that the neighborhood been so desperate to sell it that every complaint about “ghosts” or  _“something’s in there!”_  had been buried and sweet-talked away before anyone could contact the Ghostbusters hotline, which had then been growing in popularity because  _who else were they going to call?_

(It was something the neighbourhood hadn’t made the connection to, that Alfred himself was a part of it.)

And without that permission, without someone calling in a complaint, Alfred couldn’t go inside. No, well, not until some chump had moved in one day, with green eyes hopeful and a slight first-time-homeowner’s spring in his step, wondering how the hell he’d gotten such a nice house for such a good price.

Of course, he would find out why only an hour later, scrambling out onto the front lawn chased by a flying pan.

_“Bloody hell!”_

Alfred had scrambled right out. “Sir, are you alright?”

“There- I- er, _there_ … uh-!” His name was Arthur, as he would later tell Alfred as Alfred wrapped a shock blanket around those shivering shoulders, but right then, Arthur had clutched at his chest, pointing furiously at his door. “This- this wasn’t in the brochure!”

“I can help you!”

Oh, yes, Alfred could definitely help him. In fact, their ‘headquarters’, a run-down office they rented for cheap, were only ten minutes away. It would take a short ride, collecting some equipment and coming back, to collect whatever creature was bothering the poor man, but, well…

This Arthur fellow looked cute when he was distressed. He looked cute chewing his lip, sitting before Alfred, looking small in the face of all the scientific equipment and whatnot that hung off the walls of the waiting room surrounding him.

Despite just how long he’d been waiting to blow the ghost right out of that house, Alfred found himself forgetting the objective in the face of those green eyes.

“We- uh, we’re called the Ghostbusters.”

Arthur played with the business card in his hands. He folded each corner, just a bit, shrugging into the blanket around his shoulders. “I think I’ve heard of you before.”

“We deal with the problems you’re facing right now. I’ve had my eye on the activity in your house.”

Arthur pursed his lips.

He was distracted, as the clients usually were when Alfred brought them to the headquarters. He supposed it was because they were more informal than they came across- with business cards and fancy speak, yet simultaneously with an office consisting of peeling walls and a telephone that was only just for formalities, really. Arthur squinted at it. It was unplugged.

Alfred cleared his throat, “Are you feeling okay?”

Arthur’s eyebrows bounced and  _gosh those were big eyebrows_. Big eyebrows framed equally big, stern eyes that blinked calmly at him.

He then sighed, slipping the blanket off to pool at his waist, towards the cushion of the waiting room couch he’d been seated on. “The blanket isn’t necessary, I’m fine.”

He clutched one corner of it in his fist. Alfred noticed he tended to grab things when he was upset, like the underside of the car seat throughout the whole ride to their headquarters. Not one word of small talk.

“Pardon me, but why hadn’t you just gotten rid of the ghost as soon as you had found out about it?”

“It’s complicated.” It really wasn’t, but how else was Alfred supposed to tell Arthur their company wasn’t well-known enough to the point of being able to just get permission for investigation? He wouldn’t tell Arthur, no, not when he was so obviously trying to flex at that very moment. “There’s, um, there are calculations and prior research to be done, and this particular neighbourhood just really wants to sell their houses, so they make it harder for us to investigate.”

Arthur hummed, “I see.”

Silence.

“I never thought I’d be the type to get scared by a ghost.”

No one ever did. Especially men, they rarely ever admitted they were scared- _I was just spooked, it wasn’t too bad, I was just hoping you could get rid of it n’ stuff but I wouldn’t mind either way, really-_  and it annoyed Alfred to no end because they obviously were scared, and they found the need to conceal it when any sane person should be frightened of a literal being from another realm.

“Anyone would be scared,” Alfred said instead, with a smile.

“I suppose it’s not knowing what’s attacking you.” Arthur mused, shifting in his seat, “Something physically impossible. I just- I would just want to know how it worked, maybe I wouldn’t be so frightened then.”

More silence.

“Do you have associates? You said ‘we’.”

“Yes, but they’re busy at this moment. I’ll be able to come to your house this evening, though, I can assure you.”

Lies. Alfred told them he’d take this case solo-

“I’m assuming there’s payment?”

“Aw, how about we make a deal and you’ll get it for free?”

\- also, Alfred was an idiot and Arthur had a nice ass, so yes, he would offer their wages for free and there was no way the other three would let that happen, so Alfred did what had to be done.

“Come over afterwards and read my research!”

Arthur blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I wrote a little something a while back about ghosts. How to better understand them- never published it because I’m not insane, but I’m assuming it’s something you might like to read.”

“Yes, um, that would be nice.”

Arthur seemed to be the serious type. Alfred could sense it through that tight-lipped smile of his, the lilt of his stern accent, the way his sleeve cuffs were folded at just the perfect length on each side to match.

Of course, that calm façade had fallen away as soon as they’d driven back up to Arthur’s house that evening.

Arthur hovered behind Alfred as they climbed up the stairs.

Alfred was never one for a solo job. There were three of them for a reason- Him, Francis, and Gilbert- three men to do a job that perhaps only required one, but there was the moral support that came with a group. There was the consolation of having others behind you.

Arthur yelped from behind Alfred, throwing his arms around Alfred’s middle as a picture frame hurdled past them.

Just as Alfred thought. Random movement due to the presence of a spirit. That frame wasn’t nearly aiming to hurt either of them.

But Alfred didn’t mind letting Arthur assume whatever he’d been assuming that had him burrowing into Alfred’s back. Alfred bit back a small smile. “This one seems to want us gone.”

Nah, not really.

Arthur gasped. It was a soft noise. “I should go- make it easier for you to do your job.”

“It’s alright, I won’t let it hurt you,” Alfred said.

It was how they usually did things, let the owners of their house go to a motel while they eradicated the disturbance, but hey, it wasn’t every day that someone looked at Alfred like the way Arthur was doing right that second.

Big green eyes were full of admiration- and of course they would be,  _Alfred was hunting the ghost in his house_ \- lips parted in awe, and another jostled couch sent Arthur scrambling under Alfred’s arm, “Oh my lord!”

Arthur was oblivious to Alfred’s smirk. “This’ll be fun.”

It was fun.

After a quick checkup around the house- one at which, thanks to the blessings of the gods, Alfred had managed to catch a spoon hurdling in their direction and Arthur had looked at him like he was some sort of national hero- Alfred had found traces of ectoplasm in the upper rim of the basement door.

“This is it. Right here.” And Arthur followed along behind him like a loyal puppy as Alfred retrieved his proton pack from the living room couch, slipping it over his shoulders as he went back to descend the basement stairs, “You sure you wanna come with me?”

Arthur nodded.

The rest was a breeze.

What lived down there was exactly as Alfred had suspected. It was the shadow of a frail old man that roamed in circles as soon as Alfred shut the door behind him, engulfing them in darkness.

Arthur had screamed.

Alfred had expected it, of course, so it didn’t hit him as hard as the piercing sound should have. He sucked in a sharp inhale, turning to watch as Arthur buried himself in the corner intersection of two walls, clamping a palm over his mouth.

And like the heathen Alfred was, the only thing on his mind was just how heroic it made him look to capture the thing when Arthur was scared pale by it. It took a shot of his proton gun to slam it into a container- and no, it didn’t quite put up a fight, which made it all the more delightful for Alfred to ease it into the containment unit like it was no big deal. It was just another day zapping a ghost into a box.

Arthur scrambled to his side. “The- th-”

“The ghost is in here,” Alfred said with a cheeky grin, toe kicking at the box- an action at which Arthur visibly flinched- and Alfred had to bite back his grin.

“And the-?”

“The poltergeist activity should stop now.”

The relief that washed over a person’s face when Alfred dropped the news was worth it. Definitely more so in Arthur’s case, because despite telling himself he didn’t enjoy the way the  _kinda cute_  guy was staring at him- like he’d won the lottery and Alfred was the prize- Alfred did enjoy it, every second of it.

He enjoyed every second of taking Arthur home to let him read Alfred’s research, and watching as those eyes swept across the pages in awe- “This is so extensive! You’re quite the researcher, Mr. Jones.”

Quite the researcher,  _Mr. Jones._  Yes. Alfred quite liked that.

He quite liked it to such an extent that- well… and now, before Alfred’s actions will get him inevitably judged by the pairs of eyes that read this account, it is important to know what his motive had been first.

Like a painter deciding to make a free portrait of their beloved, like a dancer adding an extra spring in their step in the eyes of their potential lover, Alfred only wished to use his art to gain Arthur’s affections.

Of course, his colleague Francis hadn’t seen it the same way.

“You want me to set a ghost loose in a man’s house?”

“Well, when you put it that way-”

It was such a  _Francis_  thing to do anyway! Alfred would argue that what he had suggested at the Ghostbusters’ Informal Weekly Lunch was nothing different from Francis’ own idiotic stunts- it was nothing different from those risky moves of his, the twirl of the (extremely experimental) handheld equipment to elicit a giggle from an attractive client, provocatively licking the same (extremely experimental) equipment as a pose for a picture to put on their website’s biography tab- so what if Alfred wanted to impress someone too?

Sure, Arthur was attractive! He did have those wacky eyebrows, Alfred silently noted, along with that eternal bedhead of his. But if anything, that accent of his made up for it. He was like some sort of sexy, unkempt English teacher, or a librarian that Alfred could definitely vibe with. Yeah.

Gilbert was incredulous. “Dude.”

“C’mon guys! Just a little harmless ghost! Besides, Arthur’s not nearly as scared of them as people usually are!”

“Dude.”

It didn’t help that Alfred was inarguably the most sane of the group.

They relied on him to be the father friend, as they’d tell him. To keep Francis from experimenting with “ghost sex” on multiple accounts, to stop Gilbert from attempting to taste the ectoplasm- Alfred was supposed to be the normal one.

And he replied to the argument with a whine. “He’s got a really cute ass!”

Which had resulted in a sympathetic hum from the others, and a resolution to carry out Alfred’s plan starting the next day.

“Gosh, I don’t think I can see it!”

As Arthur sat on Alfred’s living room sofa, those slim fingers of his curled around a cup of tea, lips spread in a soft laugh as Alfred flashed black and white images with just a sliver of some sort of entity in them, Francis was climbing into Arthur’s bedroom window.

It was simple enough, yes. Somehow getting Arthur to come over and stalling him until Francis planted an entity in his basement. One that rose at night, as they had carefully selected from their archives. It was non-malevolent. A slow target.

And getting Arthur over was easier than Alfred had thought, because who knew a man with such a permanent crease between his brows would be so eager to come look at pictures of ghosts?

“You see, there’s a reason they don’t show up well on camera, the reason why the world still doesn’t believe in them even if they were materializing right before their very eyes.”

Arthur crossed his legs at that, head cocked attentively.

He was cute, really. He was so interested in what Alfred had to say, like- “I don’t understand this bit in your research, would you mind explaining?”

Of course, anyone would be, if they had been a victim of some supernatural attack. It was only rational for Arthur to want to read up.

So Alfred let him read up until the phone in his pocket buzzed from a text of a job well done. It was a text from a Francis who had no doubt finished climbing back out Arthur’s window.

“I suppose I should be getting back home, then!” Arthur had said on a parting note, and Alfred had watched him go, smoothing his sweater down as he stood, walking away with just a hint of a sway to those hips that had not gone unnoticed by Alfred’s eyes.

Well, nothing really went unnoticed by his eyes.

Alfred had been sipping on a coffee when Arthur came scrambling back to knock on his door, “Mr. Jones!  _Alfred!”_

And so the chase began.

Alfred wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to say he enjoyed the attention Arthur paid him as he, er, to put it unscientifically, busted Arthur’s ghosts.

It had fallen into a cycle. Alfred would trap them, he would deny the money Arthur tried to press into his hands and let him go back to his home, then invite him over the day after the next as Francis would plant the next target.

“Don’t worry, I got him! Your house seems to be charged with energy.” Alfred had pulled that one out of his ass, but what had really mattered was what Arthur had been doing as he’d said it. Pressed to Alfred’s chest in fear, arms wrapped around Alfred’s middle as Alfred ran a reassuring hand through those soft blond locks.

“I ought to move house then, shouldn’t I?”

Shit. “N- no, no, it’s not too bad, I’ll just have to keep trapping these excess entities while my partners and I think about how to get rid of them all for good. It’s doable, definitely!”

And Arthur would look up at him with those adoring eyes. Those big, green, loving eyes, and that soft smile on his lips, “You don’t have to do all that for someone who isn’t- who  _you won’t let_ pay you a cent.”

“Neighbor’s discount.” Alfred would say, with a grin on his face that matched the one blooming on Arthur’s lips. “Can’t have my screaming neighbour wake me up at odd times, can I?”

Alfred supposed it was then that things started to go, well, not so good.

Actually, scratch that. Things had gone smashing, amazing, unbelievably, earth-shatteringly good until one moment, it went all wrong, and Alfred supposed he had that coming for him.

He hadn’t seen it coming when Arthur had called him the next day, “I was wondering if you could come to my place this time?”

“Shall I bring my research?” Alfred had replied, hurriedly scrambling to his mirror to check if his hair was in place, if his teeth were white enough.

“No, just you.”

Oh.

“Uh, right now?”

Yesterday was a break-day, so to speak. Alfred couldn’t full well be pestering Arthur with ghosts every day of the week, so he’d chosen certain days to serve as a calm before the storm. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed setting fear in Arthur’s heart, definitely not! He would much rather see the smile of relief on his face as Alfred alleviated him of his problems, and that’s exactly what he’d seen that very evening.

Well, it was a smile of a different sort.

It was an easy smile with lips loosened by wine. Arthur had set two glasses up as Alfred prattled around behind him about something to fill the silence.

Arthur seemed to like the silence though.

He seemed to like it so much that he took to what seemed like hours of it. He took to sipping from the rim of his glass, gazing into Alfred’s eyes, watching calmly as Alfred turned red under the attention.

“You’re an awful quiet guy,” Alfred said, and Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“If I wasn’t so quiet, I wouldn’t be able to hear you speak, now would I?” He said in response, a slight smile on his lips, “It would be a shame, you’ve got a lot of interesting stories.”

“Ah, all I do is talk about ghosts.” Alfred said abashedly, “You’ve had enough with ghosts to want to hear all about that.”

“They don’t frighten me, you know, they’re not very blood-thirsty.” Arthur said, uncrossing his legs, “I’ve got no idea who let all these harmless, yet  _pestering_  creatures, mind you, into my house, but I’m glad to have an excuse to call you over.”

Alfred loosened his collar, “Hah- uh, what?”

“I like when you’ve got your arms all around me. It makes me feel… safe.”

And Alfred didn’t think his face could get any redder, but then Arthur kissed him, and it had felt pretty damn red then. It had felt red all the way upstairs to Arthur’s bedroom,  _red all on through,_  and red as Arthur burrowed under Alfred’s arm, pressing his head against Alfred’s chest.

“You’re, uh, you’re warmer than I’d thought you’d be.”

Arthur’s lashes fluttered shut, blinking back open in a rather judgemental perk of his brows, “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“You just seem like a pretty cold-to-the-touch guy,” Alfred said with a chuckle, and Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’re not though, you’re… uh, you’re warm.”

Arthur stared at him.

“I like your pillows!” Alfred continued when he should’ve just stopped talking.

He wasn’t wrong. Arthur’s bed was rather comfortable- even more so, with Arthur’s head nuzzling into the crook of Alfred’s neck- oh god. He was actually, factually in Arthur Kirkland’s bed.

“You’re sweet,” Arthur said offhandedly, fingers brushing at Alfred’s hair, lips pressing onto Alfred’s with an intensity far lower than their first kiss earlier that day.

And there it was. That’s when it happened. That’s when things went not so good.

Because there was a racoon outside the closed bedroom door. Or, at least, that’s what Arthur had thought when he heard the thud.

“Alfred is it a-?” He seemed a bit panicked, sitting up straight, pressing the bedsheets to his chest as his wild eyes stared at the door. “God, if a  _ghost_  sees me naked-”

“It can’t be a ghost,” Alfred said. _It’s a break day!_  He couldn’t quite say that aloud, though.

“It’s got to be a racoon or something, then,” Arthur said, determined. “I’ll check.”

Alfred doubted it would be a racoon in the second floor of a house, but he didn’t mind watching Arthur shuffle around the room looking for a robe. He then grabbed some sort of bat, hand on the doorknob.

“Hold on, I’ll help,” Alfred said, slinking out of bed and slipping on his underwear-  _how had it ended up on the lampshade?_ -“I doubt a little guy like you and a messed-up baseball bat could do much damage.”

“It’s a cricket bat.”

Despite hunting ghosts for a living, Alfred Jones was actually pretty scared of animals. At least the ones that weren’t cats or dogs or anything that could be a pet.

When Alfred would think about the event later, though, he agreed that he would’ve rather seen a rabid, angry, six-foot bear than the blue eyes that greeted them as the two opened the door.

Francis Bonnefoy paused, like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He then grinned. “I see you finally got in pretty-boy’s pants, Jones.”

It was pretty funny to see Francis attempt to miss the swing of Arthur’s bat.

It wasn’t pretty funny, however, to have to explain to Arthur exactly why a strange Frenchman was lurking about his house, and why he seemed to know Alfred.

“This is my associate.” Alfred said with a pained smile, “Francis Bonnefoy, he’s a Ghostbuster.”

Francis glared at Arthur, shifting the position of the ice pack on his thigh.

Arthur had been so gracious as to take the conversation to the living room after letting Alfred get dressed, fetching some ice for the man he’d injured. Alfred took it back, Arthur could definitely do some damage.

That fact wasn’t very reassuring to Alfred at that very moment.

“Why was he in my house?” Arthur said, arms crossed, and Alfred found it hard to swallow.

“Uh… yeah, Francis, why were you even in here?”

“Wrong house!” Francis said with a laugh, “See, Alfred’s is right next door, so-”

“You break into Alfred’s house when he doesn’t answer the door?” Arthur was not very impressed. Neither was he non-observant.  _Damn it._  “What’s in your backpack?”

“Just some-”

Arthur was not very patient either.

The bag had been ferociously unzipped to find equipment that one didn’t need to have scientific knowledge of to understand what was going on. At least to some extent. At least to Arthur.

“I didn’t know today was the break-day!” Francis hissed through grit teeth to the colleague next to him, and Alfred hoped Arthur didn’t hear it.

Arthur heard it.

“Break-day?”

Needless to say, there was no charming way to tell Arthur that he’d been planting ghosts in his basement. That didn’t mean Alfred didn’t try.

It didn’t work. “Get out of my house.”

And because Arthur had swung his bat so well, Alfred had decided he probably should’ve done what Arthur told him to do.

“Not you,  _Mr. Jones.”_  Arthur hissed as Alfred followed Francis out the door. “You stay. We need to talk.”

Again, along with the giant bear, Alfred would’ve preferred to leave and never return. Perhaps he could change his name and move to Canada. There were ghosts there too.

“You’re a sick bastard, Alfred Jones!” Arthur practically squawked, not even a second after Francis shut the door behind him. “Did you get off on giving me sleepless nights for  _weeks?”_

“Only if ya couldn’t sleep ‘cause you were thinking about me.” Alfred attempted with a wink.

He barely managed to duck the couch pillow Arthur hurtled in his direction. “Not everything is a joke, you  _sodding idiot!”_

“Y- didn’t you say you weren’t afraid? I didn’t really scare you, so-”

“That’s not the point!” Arthur straightened up, fists clenched at his sides, “Was it all a lie?”

“What?” Alfred straightened his glasses. He then dove behind a couch as Arthur charged in his direction, “Hey- wh-  _whoa!”_

“Did you plant the first ghost too, you  _arse?”_

“No, that was- that was real!”

Arthur dragged him out of his hiding place by the collar, and suddenly, the short man was very tall indeed. He was tall, frightening and bloodthirsty.

Alfred squeaked.

“What was the plan? To scare me into your bed for a night and then kick me to the curb?”

Alfred furrowed his brows, “What? No! I-”

His next words had to be picked very carefully it seemed. Green eyes bore into his and Alfred cleared his throat, slowly inching Arthur’s iron grip off his collar. Oh God, it was so close to his neck… “I like you.”

“You like someone, you ask them out.” Arthur began, voice on a crescendo until he was practically shouting-  _“You don’t put a ghost in their basement!”_

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” Alfred babbled, “You- I- look at me, Arthur, does it look like I know how to talk to guys? I’ve been a geeky science-freak since high school, cut me some slack!”

Arthur’s stony glare softened. He then took a step back. “Why me?”

At first, it seemed like a question for Alfred to answer. It seemed like a chance for Alfred to step forward and tell Arthur exactly why he wanted him, to soften Arthur up with sweet talk until Arthur was ready to give Alfred a second chance, but that wasn’t quite it.

Arthur buried his face into his palms with a groan, “Dear Lord, why is it always me?”  

Alfred blinked.

“I thought my string of bad luck with men had ended with my psychopathic ex-boyfriend, but  _you_ -” Arthur hissed, jabbing a finger into Alfred’s chest accusingly, “- you’re the mother of them all, aren’t you?”

“Arthur, I swear to you- I know I’m probably the biggest idiot you’ll ever meet-”

“You most definitely are.”

“- and I know the last thing you want to do right now is to give me a second chance, but-”

“But what?” Arthur said with a cock of his brow.

“Please give me a second chance?” Alfred attempted with a slight, nervous smile. “I’ve never met anyone as interested in my work as you are, and I really, really like you. I would really, really love to share everything I’ve ever written with you, I’d do anything to make you happy, I swear, I’m not a psychopath.”

Arthur clenched his jaw.

“I know I seem like I am, but I promise, this was just bad judgement. I’ll never again. God, I’d let you hit me a thousand times, _run me over with a truck_  if you want, just please.”

Arthur dropped his tough-boy act as soon as the front door knocked. Arthur looked at Alfred with narrowed eyes, “If that’s another ghost or something else you’ve planted, I swear I’ll-”

Alfred opened the door to find Gilbert suited up. “Alfred, we gotta go, there’s been a sighting in the Subway and Francis is down, I-”

He peeked inside the house with a sly smile and a little wave, “- hope I’m not interrupting something.”

“Arthur, I gotta go, but-?” Alfred let the dialogue hang off with brows knotted in worry, lips quirked up in a hopeful smile.

Silence.

“I’m insane.” Arthur muttered, “That’s the only reason I still find you attractive right now, that’s got to be it.”

Alfred grinned. 

“God, I’m actually crazy. I’m just as crazy as you are. I’m  _crazier.”_

“So is that a-?”

“Shut up.”

If Gilbert hadn’t been hooting in the background, Alfred would’ve said that the kiss was one of the most romantic ones he’d ever had, despite Arthur being in an old robe and Alfred’s shirt having been buttoned wrong, and all the other things that had gone wrong in the minutes leading up to it. 

He found himself being dragged against Arthur’s body by the collar, and that was a very good feeling indeed.

“Next time, just, please…  _please,_  just ask me out.” Arthur said, shoving Alfred onto the doorstep. “But don’t you dare think you are ever living this down. Now get out of my house,  _Ghostboy.”_

The nickname grew on him, but Alfred didn’t really like it at first, no. Nor did he like how Arthur constantly brought up the fact that Alfred  _“bloody haunted my house to get me to fuck him”_ \- he would drunkenly tell the story to literally anyone that would listen while Alfred sat behind him red-faced, he would tell the story to Alfred himself time and time again when Arthur found him being difficult.

“Do we really have to eat Indian takeout? I don’t really feel like it-” Alfred whined, and Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“A few months ago, I hadn’t really felt like having you drop a ghost in my basement every other day, but here we are.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes, “One day, you’re going to have to stop using that as leverage.”

“Get up.” Arthur snapped, shifting from his position lounging on Alfred’s chest, and giving him way to get off the couch.

Arthur then smirked, “And go get me some Indian takeout,  _Ghostboy.”_


End file.
